


see me in shadow

by meritmut



Series: i loved you well, when we were young [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bodice-Ripper, F/M, LITERALLY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meritmut/pseuds/meritmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whoever sent this prompt has a lot to answer for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see me in shadow

He’s been watching her all day, as surreptitiously as he ever can be, but still she noticed. She noticed the tilt of his head as they rode, the flash of his hooded eyes in her direction as the sunlight faded, and now…now Loki makes no secret of it. He sits on the far side of their fire and his gaze never leaves her as she returns, bearing an extravagant stack of kindling in her arms, and takes her place across the flames from him. In her brief absence the tent has been secured between two skyward-spearing pines, the fire only a few paces from the entrance and guarded from the wind by the spare cloak that he’s tied, a cord at each corner, between another two trees.

It’s cosy, the tiny glade protected from the elements, but still Sif feels a touch uncomfortable at the inexplicable intensity in her companion's eyes.

"Do I have something on my face?” she enquires in a mild voice while she stacks the wood by the tent. The weather has been dry of late, and it wouldn’t do to leave spare fuel too close to the flames. “Or is there something else amiss?”

Loki jumps slightly as if startled to be caught looking, and she swears his cheeks flush a little – though she can’t be sure in the dancing firelight.

“Not at all,” he hastens to cover his careless staring, “I…I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in that before.”

With an overly-blasé gesture he motions to Sif's leather jerkin - or, more precisely, the tight bodice currently restricting her every movement. She’d donned it this morning hoping it would still fit, but she’d last worn it as a younger woman, coltish and athletic, and can no longer say she fits the shape of the old garment with quite the same wiry slimness. She has curves to her now; curves and breasts (though they’re considerably more obvious with the tightly-laced bodice acting to draw them both in and up, she must admit).

Indeed, she’s almost impressed with herself.

_Oh._

And now she knows why Loki has been sneaking looks at her all day.

“What of it?” She eyes him balefully, repressing a smirk. Let him squirm a little, and indeed he does - but only for a moment.

Now he’s grinning, long fingers tap-tap-tapping against his knees as he takes the measure of her.

“I’d sooner see you without it,” he remarks. “Though I must say it does wonders for your, ah…”

What can only be described as a lecherous eye wanders down across the rise-and-fall planes of her torso, curving and flat both, glimmering faintly as her breath quickens. “...well. As I say, though, it cannot compare to you without it.”

Sif rises once more, sweeping her dark curls to one side, and lets slip her heavy cloak in a single motion that leaves it pooling at her feet as she stares him down, pulled taut and hard by her leathers and twitched tight as a bowstring after the day's long ride.

“Then rid me of it.”

The laces that tangle across her chest and bind the bodice tight make an easy target of themselves upon her breast, shifting as she moves, and Loki hesitates no longer.

Rising, he steps over the forgotten firewood and flows sinuous as a shadow to where she waits for him. His fingers curl around those tantalising laces, drawing close until she stands in the darkness he casts upon her...he tugs gently, teasingly and the knot unravels, oh, so slowly, and there’s a black urge in his eyes that takes her breath away as he resists the urge to draw his blade and slice through the remaining strings all at once. But patience, patience and the wait are the sweetest flavourings to reward, and there is no finer reward than the taste of Sif and her delicate flesh that girds the steel beneath like silk over stone. A moment, a test of will, and the bodice falls to join her cloak upon the ground.

Sif rolls her shoulders to loosen her muscles but his hands are at her throat now, tilting her head as his seeking mouth falls upon her bare neck.

One hand she feels glide over her before settling at her waist, slipping beneath her shirt to the soft skin he loves so well – one tormenting hand and one glance at the unbound lust in his eyes and the darkness ignites within her into fire.

The merest calculating brush of his mouth over her golden skin and she feels herself become a comet, a pinpoint of spiralling light amidst a sable sphere that encloses her in its embrace and yet at the same time unchecked, unleashed and aglow in the revelry of being without that damned bodice (though she loves it for the reaction it has inspired in him, and thinks to wear it more often in the future). She puts up no fight this time when he slides them to the ground and settles her there on her fallen cloak, nor lifts so much as a moan from her trembling lips as his own skim lightly along her jawline, the fragrant hollow of her neck, between her collarbones as he reacquaints himself with his most favoured journey down, down, with excruciating slowness until Sif’s hands rise to tangle themselves in his hair and pull him back up again.

With teeth and tongue and all of his experience put into play he toys with her, nipping at her until she gasps and devouring the softness of her splayed out in firelight and shade, drowning in the molten core of her as her arms come up around him once more and her legs curl themselves about his hips to drive him against her.

Hunger and desire play out across the planes of her lissom form as they steal this glimmering moment from the night, delight in their anonymity here in the forest so far from Asgard and palaces and the place their home lies, and yet still - together as they are, with one another - where it truly may be found.


End file.
